Little Pieces
by luli27
Summary: Songfic based on Gomez' "Little Pieces". A conversation between Hotch and Prentiss leads to her walking out the door and Hotch standing by. 2nd chapter up, based on Jennifer Lopez' 'Ain;t it Funny', Emily thinks about her and Hotch's relationship.
1. Little Pieces

**Little Pieces**

**Disclaimer: **Nope, neither the song nor the characters are mine - the angst, that's all mine, though.

**A/N: **Well, I'm not exactly sure where this came from. It's certainly not what I usually write; it's too short for one thing and too angsty for another. But, musie decided to take a break right in the middle of the '100' tag and when she came back this is what she had in mind. I'd been thinking about doing something like this for the tags but it just wouldn't fit there since that's a more hopeful universe but every time I heard this song, I couldn't help but wonder 'what if' so once the story actually started to roll, I decided to go ahead and write. I also figured it might just break whatever block I was having and I might finally finish that tag. It worked! I both, got this story out of my head and I finally finished the tag! Which should be posted later on today or tomorrow at the latest. My beta thinks you guys will demand some sort of sequel or resolution; I'm not sure. Part of me is happy with this as is but I do have an idea for a couple of 'companions' pieces. I might write them, if you guys are interested, after I write the next two tags. Anyway, I hope you like it and please do let me know what you think, like I said, this is a real departure for me.

----------

"I'm sorry," Hotch said quietly. "I know that's not what you want to hear but I can't . . . right now, I just can't . . . I don't have anything else to give."

_Little piece of me you can't have  
And I know it's driving you mad_

"I know," Emily nodded. "I just wish. . ."

"If I could," he continued and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, "if there was anyone that could make me . . ."

"No, don't," Emily shook her head hastily. "Please, don't say anything else." As painful as it was to hear that he couldn't give her what she needed, it was somehow more painful to hear that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "But right now, this is all I have . . . it's all I can do to keep going; I have precious little to spare."

"Aaron, please," she stopped him once more. "You don't need to explain." She knew all about it and was tired of beating her head against a wall that was never going to crack.

_Little part inside you can't reach  
I'm afraid that's the way its gonna be  
There's a part of you that wants to fight  
But I never really had the appetite_

"Emily, I . . ." he trailed off with a frown when he found that there was really nothing else he could say.

"I should go," she said after a moment of awkward silence. When he just looked at her with the same shuttered gaze, she nodded to herself and sat up. She wrapped the sheet around her torso as she reached forward to pick up her clothes. When she had it all, she walked towards the bathroom without looking back at the bed.

You'd think she, of all people, would have known better than to get involved with an emotionally unavailable man – a man that, on top of everything else, was her boss. Actually, she had known better; she had promised herself she wouldn't go there. She'd known what would happen. And yet, she hadn't been able to stay away. She hadn't been strong enough to resist, not both her needs and his. She'd been fine while it was just her emotions she'd been fighting but she was a sucker for needy, soulful brown eyes. It wasn't that Hotch was the kind of man that asked for help or showed vulnerability but sometimes there was a light in his eyes, a look that showed her the man behind the stern mask. And that was a look she could never resist.

_I fear my feelings won't speak  
Words are already taken upon the breeze  
Wind is always blowing_

Hotch looked at her when she came out of the bathroom and opened his mouth to say something, only to close it moments later. He wanted to say something, needed to say something to let her know what she meant to him; he wanted her to know that she mattered. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure how to say it – actually, he wasn't sure what to say. For a man that was usually articulate and almost always knew what to say, not knowing what to say, not knowing what he felt was more than a little disconcerting.

_Pieces falling from me  
You can have them for free  
Never felt so complete  
Pieces falling from me_

"Emily," he finally found his voice before she opened the bedroom's door. "I know you don't want excuses or explanations."

"You're right, I don't," she kept her eyes on her hand on the knob when she answered. "So, please don't . . ."

"I just need to tell you," he kept talking despite her interruption, "if things were different, if these last two years . . ."

"If, if, if," she couldn't help the bitter tone in her voice. She took a deep breath before continuing, "There's no point to this, Hotch. All the 'ifs' won't change what 'is'; it's just wishful thinking and that gets us nowhere. I know the last two years have been anything but easy and that you've gone through a lot and I want to help you but . . . I can't keep doing this. I just can't, Hotch."

_Though you try your best you never find  
There are pieces that are left behind  
Last piece of the jigsaw  
All the others are scattered across the floor  
So you try to get them all up  
There are pieces falling in the dust_

"I understand," he said after a moment. He couldn't help but notice that she still hadn't let go of the knob or turned around. "This is anything but fair to you; I know that. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I wish . . ." he trailed off and shook his head. "I never wanted to put you in this position; if I'd just been stronger. . ."

If he'd been stronger, he'd have stayed away from her. He'd known that getting involved with her in a personal way wasn't a good idea; actually, he'd known it was a spectacularly bad idea. She might be the one thing that brought any kind of peace or light to his life but he'd known that he would only add darkness and despair to hers. He would only drag her into his chaos and hurt her because he was no longer whole and able to give her what she needed and deserved. His divorce and the Foyet episode had left him deeply scarred; both experiences had cost him pieces of himself and he wasn't sure when or even if he would ever get them back.

_There's a pile of ash we don't need  
Leave it to be taken upon the breeze  
Wind is always blowing_

"Stronger?" she asked.

"I should have walked away," he answered. "Or made you walk away."

"Made …?" she started to repeat in indignation only to cut herself off and take a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment to get herself together before she turned around to face him, "Correct me if I'm wrong but what happened here," she waved to indicate the bed and what had happened on it, "required two willing, consenting adults– unless one forced the other, which did _not_ happen. There were two of us on that bed, Aaron; two of us who should have known better, but didn't. Two of us who could and probably should have stopped it way before now, but didn't; there were two of us who knew the consequences of what we were doing and did it anyway. You don't get to shoulder the responsibility and blame for this by yourself. This, and the consequences of it, is on both of us."

He opened his mouth to protest but closed it without saying anything else when she glared at him. "Okay," he nodded. There was another awkward pause before he asked, "now what?"

"Now?" she repeated. "Now we go back to how things used to be and forget this ever happened. And we make sure it never happens again." When he just looked at her, she added, "And this time, we really make sure it doesn't happen again because I can't keep doing this. I understand you're going through a rough patch and I'd like to help but . . ." she shook her head as she finished, "I just can't keep putting myself through this." She knew she was repeating herself, but there was nothing else she could say.

_All this background noise  
It's crowded  
Never tell  
It's half the reason why they're there  
It's hard to make another plan_

"I know," he said wearily. "You're right; it can't happen again. For what it's worth, I am sorry. I never meant to drag down you into my mess of a life or for things to get so out of hand. I . . . I just wish . . ."

"If wishes were horses," she said when he trailed off, "we'd be the proud owners of a stud ranch." One corner of his mouth quirked up for half a second before the serious look returned to his face.

"I . . . Thank you," he surprised her by saying. "I really appreciate your being there when I needed someone. Putting yourself out there is never easy and you've done it time and time again – so thank you. It . . . means more than can I say. I just . . ." he cut himself off before he could say 'wish' again. He sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his hair. "Damn it," he said softly, frustration dripping from the words. "This really isn't fair," there was a wealth of emotions in that one sentence – more emotions than Emily had ever heard from him, more emotions than she'd ever dreamed he'd expressed. And that really said it all.

_There's a fine line what you want and what you need  
Standing right there in between  
Never been that kind of free  
I've never lied to me_

"Life is seldom fair," she replied and the resignation and cynicism in her tone made him ache for her. "And people rarely get what they deserve. Shit happens and you just have to deal with it. So, no, this isn't fair; but this isn't about fairness."

"Then what is it about?" he asked, and he really wished she'd tell him because for once in his life, Aaron Hotchner had no idea what he was doing, what he wanted or even what was going on.

"It's about . . ." she trailed off and shook her head as it dawned on her that that simple question was about more than just one thing; it could apply to a whole host of issues. She hesitated but in the end she went with the first answer than came to her. "I suppose it's about knowing yourself; knowing what you want, what you can give and what you'll get in return. And it's about being smart enough and mature enough to know that what you want and what you need aren't always the same thing and it's about seeing the difference and that what you need is more important than what you want and it's about accepting that sometimes you have to let what you want go if you're to ever have what you need." As she said it, she realized that never before had what she wanted and what she needed been so far apart and yet had the potential to be so close. She also understood, for the first time, that getting what you wanted could sometimes break your heart.

"You deserve to get both what you want and what you need," he told her and she could hear the sincerity in his voice. "I only wish I was able to give them to you."

_Pieces falling from me  
You can have them for free  
Never felt so complete  
Never be what you need  
Something missing from me  
_

"Me too," she whispered. He looked so alone and forlorn standing by the tousled bed that she felt her breath catch. "You deserve to get them, too, Hotch."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Right now, it's all I can do to keep putting one foot in front of the other; I don't really have the energy to think about what I want. As for what I need, I breathe, eat, sleep and take care of Jack – as long as I have that, I guess I have what I need." She nodded because that really said it all, didn't it?

"I need to go," she finally said. He looked at her in silence for a few moments longer before he nodded. He waited until she'd turned around again and opened the door before speaking because he couldn't let her leave without giving her something – he couldn't watch her leave without giving himself something.

"The last thing I want is for you to go," he told her, "but you do need to." She froze for half a second before she forced herself to cross the threshold. She didn't look back but she left the door opened.

_That I'll never complete  
Never less than complete  
Pieces falling from me_


	2. Ain't it Funny

**Chapter 2: Ain't it Funny**

**Disclaimer: **Nope, they're still not mine. Neither is the song.

**A/N: **Well, I wasn't going to but your reviews were so lovely that I, after I thought about it for a while, I found I had more to say. And here it is! The sequel to 'Little Pieces'. It's a little different from my usual staff; it's certainly a lot angstier than I usual write. At least, I hope you find it very angsty. But I have the third chapter almost all done and should be post it by the weekend and that one will end on a more optimistic note. Anyway, I hope you like it!

---------------

"We shouldn't have left," Emily muttered as she settled down in the plane.

"Did you say something, Em?" JJ said as she sat down next to the dark haired profiler.

"I just don't think we should have left," Emily shook her head. "Hotch is going through a really rough time and he needs his team around; we were on stand down, I don't see why they had to call us in."

"We were the only team available, Emily," JJ said quietly. "The timing sucks but that's the job. Hotch understands that; he wouldn't want us to stay behind and ignore the job because of him."

"You're probably right," Emily conceded with a sigh. "Still, I don't have to like it. I just . . . I just wish there was something I could do for him and Jack."

"He knows you're there for him if he needs anything," JJ comforted the team's only female profiler. "There's really nothing much you, or any of us, _can_ do."

"I know," Emily sighed again. "I know you're right; it's just . . ." she trailed off with a shrug as she turned to look out the window.

"Are _you_ okay?" JJ asked after a moment's pause, when she debated whether it was the right thing to ask.

"_Me_?" Emily asked, surprised, as she turned to look at JJ once more. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be? It was Hotch that lost someone close to him, not me."

"Yes, I know but," JJ hesitated for a moment before she decided she might as well go on, "I know what he means to you and it can't be easy seeing him hurt so much . . . over his wife."

"He's hurting because his wife died, JJ," Emily said. "Of course, it isn't easy to see him hurt so much; I'm sure you feel the same way."

"I'm worried about him, sure," JJ replied. "But my feelings for Hotch aren't quite what yours are."

"JJ," Emily said in a warning tone. "This isn't really the place or time to talk about that - not that there's anything to say about . . . that."

"I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk," the team's media liaison said. Though the two friends had never really talked about whatever it was that was going on between the brunette profiler and the former team leader, it was obvious that JJ knew something _had_ been going on. In fact, Emily was sure everyone on the team knew something had happened between her and Hotch but no one, save JJ right then, had ever said anything about it. That was the bad and good thing about working with a team of profilers and two very observant women – they knew everything about you, even the stuff you really didn't want them to know but they also knew you well enough to understand what and when a subject was appropriate to talk about.

"Thanks," Emily said just as Morgan started distributing the files for the case. For the next couple of hours, she delved into work and managed to forget all about Hotch. However, there was only so much they could do in the plane and before long, they were putting aside the files and trying to relax before they were once more required to immerse themselves in a sick person's psyche. As it had become the norm in the last few months, her mind, when not engaged in work, returned without delay to its new default setting – Hotch, his painful situation and their non-relationship.

_It seemed to be like the perfect thing for you & me  
It's so ironic you're what I had pictured you to be  
But there are facts in our lives we can never change  
Just tell me that you understand & you feel the same  
_

How was it that things had gotten to that point? How could she, the who had always been so careful, be the one that allowed herself to become involved in such a mess of a situation, one that resembled nothing more than a soap opera plot gone wrong? Oh, yes, she remembered; it had been those chocolate, bedroom eyes of his, not to mention those dimples that made such rare appearances and that tough, stern mask that hid a sweet, tender, sensitive and vulnerable man.

She had always been a sucker for a tough man in pain, had never really been able to resist the allure of trying to 'fix' them. So, when Hotch had started to lean on her after the explosion in New York, she'd been a goner. She'd been able to resist the attraction she felt for him up to then; after all, for the first year she'd known him, he'd been married and more than a little reserved around her but when the ice started to thaw, she found herself sinking – and fast.

She might have sunk fast but the relationship progressed at a rate comparable to that of an iceberg – incredibly slow. And she'd been happy about the slow rate; they were two injured, guarded souls that, professionally, had too much to lose to risk going any faster. Slow had been the perfect speed, not to mention that she'd enjoyed getting to know another side of Hotch. She'd found him to be funny and witty, despite his dry as dust sense of humor; tender, generous, compassionate, gentle and patient: exactly how she'd thought he'd be behind the mask he always wore, on those rare moments she allowed herself to go there at all. But she had wondered whether anyone else besides Hailey and Jack had seen that other side of him because it was a side he kept almost completely under wraps while at work.

However happy she'd been with the slow speed and with the man behind the mask she'd been discovering, there had been more than one moment of doubt; more than one moment where she'd wondered if things were heading where she thought and hoped, they were heading. His divorce had left him very scarred and his devotion to his son was absolute. But while she'd respected and admired his devotion to his son, the scars left by his divorce had made her very wary. She'd wanted nothing more than to learn whether he felt the same as she; unfortunately, communication, especially about his feelings, was not one of his good qualities.

_This perfect romance that I've created in my mind  
I'd live a thousand lives  
each one with you right by my side_

And yet, despite her misgivings, she'd continued to allow herself to be pulled in deeper and deeper; she'd felt confident that things would resolve themselves and optimistic that he felt as she did. Something that with the benefit of hindsight, she realized was very out of character for her. She might be a confident person when it came to her work but she was usually far from confident and optimistic when it came to her personal life. Normally, she preferred a more realistic approach, something along the lines of "plan for the worst, hope for the best" kind of tactics.

But her usually hidden romantic side had won out and she'd found herself dreaming of a future with him. A future where she had those kids she had started to long for, and a house with a garden, and a minivan she'd use to drive the kids to soccer practice and ballet rehearsals and sleepovers at friend's houses. If she'd come up with one, she'd come up with a hundred ways of them 'getting together'; she'd imagined everything from how he finally told her he loved her; to their wedding; to the birth of their children. She actually cringed now when she remembered all of those fantasies; they were so unlike her that she couldn't quite believe that it had been her mind that had come up with them.

_  
But yet we find ourselves  
in a less than perfect circumstance  
And so it seems like we'll never have the chance_

Unfortunately, and maybe predictably, those fantasies were all she was likely to have – well, those and the memories of the few times they ended up in bed together. God, she still couldn't believe she'd done that. She'd known it wasn't a good time; that he was in a bad place to be making those kind of decisions and that given their working relationship it would only create more problems. She'd even known it was all going to blow up in her face. She just hadn't been able to turn him away when he'd come to her for comfort; it had felt like the only way she had to help him.

But physical release, no matter how pleasurable, wasn't a panacea. It wasn't a magical solution that made everything alright; once the euphoria of the moment passed, reality was still the same as it was before and you still had to deal with it. The best sex could offer was a momentary escape from your troubles and sometimes that just made everything worse in the long run. Especially when the relationship you had with the person you were with hadn't gotten to a place where you could weather such emotional storms together.

She'd known all that and she'd still let herself be carried away with him every time he came to her. It didn't really matter that she'd always told him it couldn't happen again; she always let him in when he inevitably came back. It had started to become a vicious, unhealthy circle. Once she'd called a halt to the last time they'd been together because she didn't want the good feelings they'd had for each other to turn dark and ugly. Whether they'd have been able to stick to their resolution of never 'going there' again, was something they'd never know now as his situation had gotten even bleaker a couple of days earlier and that, in turn, made whatever slim hope she'd kept of things working out between them even slimmer.

_Ain't it funny how some feelings you just can't deny  
And you can't move on even though you try  
Ain't it strange when your feeling things you shouldn't feel  
Oh, I wish this could be real_

"Hey, girl," Morgan said from across the table. "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she smiled at him and noticed that at some point while she'd been lost in thought JJ had moved seats. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, I guess," Morgan shrugged. "You just looked . . . completely spaced."

"I was lost in thought," she corrected. "There's a difference."

"If you say so," he didn't sound convinced. "I think what you need is a night out; you know, to just let it all go, relax and have fun. Maybe we should go out once we get back to DC."

"No, thanks, Morgan," she shook her head. "I'm really not in the mood and I really don't think this is the time to go partying." Though, she tried not to, she sounded just a little bit reproachful.

"No, you're right," Morgan nodded. "It's not the time but . . ." he shook his head. "We all really need to relax."

"You're probably right about that," she conceded. "I just don't think that's going to happen any time soon, do you?"

"Probably not," he sighed and let the matter drop. Morgan turned his attention back to his music and Emily went back to not seeing the clouds.

No, going out wouldn't help anything, neither would meeting anyone new. She knew because she'd tried that already. Not lately, not since before they slept together but if she hadn't been able to forget about him then, she had a feeling it would be even harder now. Now she knew what it was to be in his arms, how it felt to kiss him and to be surrounded by him, how could she possibly forget that? How could she move on to someone else?

It didn't matter that she knew things wouldn't be going anywhere or that she really should be moving on or that she shouldn't have fallen for him in the first place; none of that mattered because she had fallen for him and now she was stuck. She was in love with a single father who was mourning the death of his ex-wife and who also happened to be her boss. She couldn't have chosen a more inappropriate man to fall in love with if she'd tried. Because really, falling in love with your emotionally battered boss was a huge no-no.

_  
Ain't it funny how a moment could just change your life  
And you don't want to face what's wrong or right  
Ain't it strange how fate can play a part  
in the story of your heart_

But damn it, how she wished things were different. She wished she wasn't so convinced things wouldn't have worked out – no, she wished she was sure things would work out. Actually, if she was wishing stuff, she'd wish that Foyet had never re-entered Hotch's life or at the very least, that he'd had the decency of staying put in prison, where he belonged.

It was funny, or maybe in this case it was sad, how one single moment in time could have so much impact in one's life. Her relationship with Hotch had had more than one such moment but the ones that had altered its course onto paths she couldn't have predicted involved Foyet.

Foyet's stabbing of Hotch had been like a slap in the face. Emily had known almost as soon as she heard that Hotch wasn't answering his phone that something was wrong and she had gone over to check on him the first chance she'd had. Seeing the blood in his dining room and then seeing him lying in that hospital bed had been about the worst moments of her life; though not as bad as when he woke up and figured out Foyet was going after his son and ex-wife. Emily could have cried at the agony she saw in his eyes at that moment.

It had been that same agony she'd seen when he'd come to her a few weeks later seeking comfort and escape in her arms. And that had been another moment that had changed their relationship and turned it into something she no longer recognized. And, despite knowing it was wrong, it was the fear of seeing that same look in his eyes that had prevented her from turning him away every time he'd come back. Well, that and the fact that she loved him and, good or bad, being with him was something of a dream come true – even though, she'd also known that it really was little more than an illusion.

_Sometimes I think that a true love can never be  
I just believe that somehow it wasn't meant for me  
Life can be cruel in a way that I can't explain  
And I don't think that I could face it all again_

She had resigned herself to never knowing love; at her age and with her past, it just hadn't seemed to be in the cards for her. But life or perhaps it was fate, was a fickle thing and delighted in playing with the lives and loves of mere mortals. And, quite against her expectations, Emily had fallen for the most unlikely of men. But, if falling for Hotch had surprised her, having him return her interest, in however small a way it might have been, had completely stunned her.

Of course, life was nothing if not capricious and just as it gives, it takes away. Just as Emily had started to believe her wild flights of fancy might become reality, that prospect was taken away and the possibility of any of that ever happening became almost nonexistent. Whoever had said that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all must not have loved and lost anyone – or he must have had some serious mental deficit, because as far as Emily was concerned, she was better off before the whole twisted relationship with Hotch started.

At least back then she could seek solace in ignorance and convince herself that being with Hotch couldn't possibly be as good as she imagined. Now, she knew that it was even better than she'd thought it could be and she had no idea how she was going to get over him. She'd had her share of knocks in life but she honestly didn't know how she was going to recover from this last one – it seemed life could be more than capricious and could actually be down right mean sometimes.

_  
I barely know you but somehow I know what you're about  
A deeper love I've found in you and I no longer doubt  
You've touched my heart and it altered every plan I've made  
And now I feel that I don't have to be afraid_

She really would have been much better off if she'd just kept her attraction for him in a tightly locked box in a dark corner of her mind. And if he hadn't gotten divorced and had kept his stern mask firmly in place, that box wouldn't have ever been opened. But no, the man had to go and get a divorce and allowed her little peeks into the inner man that made keeping the lid on the box all but impossible. It hadn't even mattered that, because he was such a complex man, those little peeks had barely scratched the surface of his personality; what she'd glimpsed in those moments, combined with what she knew of him from work, had been more than enough for her to know _who_ he was – and that had been enough to turn simple attraction and infatuation into the real thing.

It had also been enough to breach all the barriers she'd been erecting since her teenage years. She still wasn't sure how he'd done it but, little by little, the man had chipped at her defenses until they were all but gone and all those emotions she'd kept tightly locked had been let loose. And now her heart was no longer her own and she was helplessly, hopelessly, head over in heels in love with her boss, a man that had recently become a single father and whose feelings for his ex-wife were so tangled up no one was sure whether he considered himself a man whose ex-wife had died or a widower.

Emily shifted away from the window and let her head fall on the headrest as she closed her eyes and tried to relax. She supposed if one good thing had come out of the whole mess, it was that she was no longer afraid. For most of her life, she had kept back a part of herself, frightened of what it would mean, of what it could do to her if she were to give her all to a relationship and then have that relationship fail. After what happened with Matt when she was a teenager, she'd been more than wary of ever feeling anything close to that. But there really was no point in being afraid anymore, was there? After all, her heart was already broken, what more could she possibly have to be afraid of now?

_I locked away my heart but you just set it free  
Emotions I felt held me back from what my life should be  
I pushed you far away and yet you stayed with me  
I guess this means that you and me were meant to be_

When the pilot announced that they would be landing momentarily, Emily straightened and leaned forward to gather and put away her papers. As she did so, she looked around and saw her teammates doing the same; it was a sight she was rather used to and yet, it struck her that something was off about it, something was missing. It took her a few moments to realize what it was that was missing – Hotch. Their erstwhile leader's absence could almost be felt. And though Emily had no doubt that they would solve their present case without much difficulty, she also knew that it wouldn't be the same without him there.

She pushed up from her seat with a slight, annoyed frown; even when she wasn't thinking of him, she ended up thinking of him. Yes, getting over him would be next to impossible, especially when just being with the rest of team or simply working a case would forever remind her of him. Most of what she knew about the intricacies of profiling she'd learned from him and she knew that, whatever happened in the future, the knowledge he'd imparted on her would always be with her.

A little corner of her heart kept insisting that after everything they'd been through, their future relationship could be much closer than just a professional one but her common sense asserted that nothing more than that was guaranteed. Her feelings for him might be all she'd most of the last two years suppressing but there was no guarantee that his feelings for her were similar. And even if they were, circumstances being what they were, chances were more than excellent that friendly colleagues would be all they would ever be.

She took her carry-on from Dave with a smile even as she determined that if friends were all they could be, then she would be the best friend she could. He was going through one of the toughest times of his life and she would be there for him to the best of her capabilities. She didn't know how much help to him and Jack she could be but she'd do her best. It seemed to be the only thing she could do for him, as for herself, helping him and seeing him act healthier would make her feel better too. Anything other than that . . . well, as the song went 'whatever will be, will be' and she could do nothing more than wait and see.


	3. Umbrella

**Little Pieces**

**Disclaimer: **Nope, they don't belong to me.

**Chapter 3: Umbrella **

Hotch raised his hand and then let it fall to his side without knocking for what seemed like the thousandth times. He knew he shouldn't have come here; Emily Prentiss' apartment was probably the last place he should be at the moment. Not only should he be with his son providing whatever comfort he could but Emily had made it very clear that him coming to her like this did nothing but hurt her.

He knew it was selfish but he'd still gone there. The fact was there was nowhere else he wanted to go, nowhere else he could imagine going. And when Jessica assured him that Jack was fine and had finally fallen asleep, he'd found himself driving over to her place without making a conscious decision to do so. But now that he was there, he couldn't quite make himself knock on the door because the last thing he wanted to do was gain his peace of mind at the expense of hers. Just as he'd convinced himself that the best thing he could do for both of them was leave, the door opened.

"Hotch," Emily said with a puzzled smile. "Are you going to knock anytime today or were you thinking of just standing there for the rest of the evening?"

"I . . ." he opened his mouth to answer but couldn't think of anything to say and ended up shrugging instead.

"Come in," she said after a few moments. "Let's get out of the hallway." With a nod, he followed her in.

_You have my heart  
And we'll never be worlds apart  
Maybe in magazines  
But you'll still be my star  
_

"Thank you," he said as he came to a stop halfway down the hallway and turned to face her. "I . . . I'm not sure why I'm here . . ."

"I'm glad you are," she said softly and reached forward to quickly squeeze his arm before walking past him. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," he shook his head.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "I have some juice or coffee . . . or something stronger if you wish."

"No, that's . . . that's one road I rather not start on," he said with a short nod.

"Probably best," she agreed. "So, how are . . . I was going to ask how you and Jack are doing – but that's a dumb question."

"No, it's not," he disagreed. "It shows that you care. And we're doing as well as can be expected, I guess. Jack's been acting a little clingy and has asked to sleep in my bed almost every night since . . ." he trailed off but they both knew that he meant since Hailey died.

"That's understandable," she told him as she leaned one hip on the kitchen counter.

"I know," he agreed. "He'll have to go back to his own bed soon enough but for now, I'm content to let him sleep in mine."

"There's nothing wrong with taking comfort from each other, Hotch," she said gently.

"I supposed not," he spoke softly as he moved further into her apartment. With a start he realized that this was the first time he'd been in her apartment since that time over three years ago when he'd come to convince her to go with him to Milwaukee. Ever since then, they've always met at his place.

_Baby cause in the dark  
You can't see shiny cars  
That's when you need me there  
With you I'll always share_

It had begun with her going to visit him after Foyet attacked him; she'd gotten into the habit of calling him every night to check how he was doing and one evening she'd shown up at his doorstep because she said he sounded off. One thing had led to another that night and she'd ended up comforting him in the old fashion way. They had both been mortified and apologized profusely afterward and had then agreed it would never happen again nor would they ever talk about it.

Two weeks later, however, he'd found himself balanced on the thin edge and had known that, loath as he was to ask for help, there was no way he was going to be able to pull himself back without it. When he finally gave in and reached for the phone, he ended up calling Emily instead of Dave, as had been his original idea. Since neither one had wanted a repeat of earlier, they'd agreed to meet at a restaurant – neutral territory; both thought that nothing could happen if they were out in public. What they forgot was that they could easily drive back to a more private environment, which is what they did and she once again ended up in his bed.

Despite the avowal of both that it would never happen again, it had happened again and again until she finally put an end to it a couple of weeks before Hailey's death. And it had always happened at his place; for some reason they had never once ventured over to her apartment. He knew there was something significant about that, just as he knew there was something significant about him having coming over to her apartment for the first time. He just had so much else on his mind that he couldn't really decide what it was that it meant. He did know that some sort of barrier had been broken.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?" she asked again, bringing him back to the present.

"No, thank you," he shook his head as he turned from the window and saw her sitting down on the couch with a cup of what looked like hot cocoa. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I shouldn't have come."

"Hotch," she sighed. "You came here for a reason; what don't you tell me what it is?" she said instead of trying to reassure him she was okay with him being there.

"I'm not sure," he said again as he sat down on the chair across from her. "I guess I just . . . needed to talk. Or maybe . . . I love my son, but maybe I just needed some adult conversation." And to be with someone that wouldn't remind him of Hailey at every turn – like Jess would have.

_When the sun shines  
We'll shine together  
Told you I'll be here forever  
Said I'll always be your friend_

"I'm always here," she said sincerely. "I'm glad you know that." He nodded but despite his claim that he wanted to talk, he didn't say anything else. "It's okay to mourn her, you know? Losing someone else is always hard. I can only imagine how hard it must when you lose your wife, the mother of your child."

"I lost my wife two years ago," he corrected her quietly. At her sharp look, he sighed and rubbed his neck. "I lost my wife when she walked out and took Jack while I was in Milwaukee. The divorce might have come later but our marriage was over right then." It might have taken him a long time to realize it but it was the truth.

"Does that make it any easier?" she asked, looking at him over the rim of her cup.

"No, I guess not," he denied.

"Of course not," she nodded. "Whether she was technically your wife or not, she was still a part of your life for over twenty years and the mother of your child. Her death isn't something you're going to just get over. You have to grieve, Hotch."

"I know, it's just . . . what was she thinking?" he asked and slapped his hands on his knees before he stood up and paced to the window once more. "What the hell was she thinking? She knew what was at stake! Why the hell would she risk coming back here when she knew the risk?"

"She was told you had died, Hotch," she said calmly and rationally.

"She should have made sure of her facts before she left the safe house!" he countered. "She knew better, for Christ's sake!"

"Foyet called her in a secure line," she reminded her. "He called her from her handler's number. She had no reason to doubt what he told her."

"She should have check before coming back," he insisted.

"Hotch, her reaction was completely normal and understandable," she argued, leaning forward on her seat.

"Really?" he asked as he turned to face her once more. "Would you have come back without checking everything was alright?"

"No," she conceded after a moment's hesitation. "But I'm an FBI agent and she was a civilian. It's not a fair comparison."

"She was an agent's wife for ten years," he countered. "She should have known better."

"Hotch," she said softly. "I know being angry makes the loss a little easier but you can't stay angry forever - you know that. It's not fair because it wasn't her fault. If you need to be angry at someone be angry at Foyet - not at her. Her, you need to mourn."

_Took an oath, I'm gonna stick it out 'till the end  
Now that it's raining more than ever  
Told you we still have each other  
You can stand under my Umbrella_

"Who am I supposed mourn, Emily?" he asked as he turned back to stare out window and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. "My childhood sweetheart, the girl I was so crazy about that I joined the drama club? My wife, the woman who walked out after twenty years of marriage taking our son with her, or the mother of my child, who will never see her child grow up or the fact the fact that my son will grow up without his mother? Tell me, Emily, who am I supposed to grieve for?"

"You mourn for Hailey," Emily said quietly as she got up and walked to stand behind him. "She was all of those persons so you mourn for all of them – because you love her, Hotch. Whether or not you're in love with her, you still love her; you'll always will. Over and beyond the fact that she's Jack's mother, she was important to _you_."

"Yes, she was," he conceded and sighed as he bowed his head.

"That's who you mourn, Hotch," she repeated, rubbing his shoulders. "It'll be hard but it'll get better, I promise."

"Thank you, Emily," he turned around and quickly squeezed her hand. "Really, thank you for everything, for always being there."

"It's not a problem," she smiled at him. "That's what friends are for. I'm just happy that you realized I'm here if you need me."

"I do know that," he nodded. "What I don't understand is why?"

_These fancy things,  
Will never come in between  
You're my entity  
Here for Infinity_

"What do you mean?" she frowned in confusion.

"After the way I treated you," he told her, "why are you so willing to be there for me? You should have shut the door on my face."

"Why would I want to do that?" she asked him.

"I treated you horribly, Emily," he said seriously while his eyes shouted his apology. "I used you and . . ."

"No, Hotch," she shook her head and placed a finger on his lips to stop him. "You didn't use me; you didn't do anything wrong." When he just raised an eyebrow, she added, "You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. There were two of us in that bed, Aaron. It probably shouldn't have happened; the timing was all wrong. But I don't blame you for it nor do I think that you used me. You didn't hurt me, Hotch; please don't think that you did."

"Emily, please," he kept his eyes on hers, "like you just said, I was there too; I saw your face afterwards. I know I hurt you."

"Okay, I was hurt," she admitted a few moments later. "But it was more with the situation than anything else." She shook her head before she continued, "Hotch, you were going – you are going through a rough time; probably one of the toughest times of your life. If anyone here took advantage, it was me."

"Oh, come on, Emily," he snorted. It was clear he thought the idea of her taking advantage of him was ludicrous.

"I'm serious, Hotch," she insisted. "I knew what you were going through and I knew it wasn't a good idea and yet, I still let it happen. And I did let it happen," she repeated, looking steadily into his eyes to make sure he got the message. "It was my choice. You didn't force me into anything I didn't want," and that for Emily Prentiss was a huge admission, Hotch knew. "You would never force me, or any woman, into doing something I didn't want."

"That still doesn't make it right," he argued. "It just . . . It really wasn't fair to you, at all, Emily."

"It's an unfair, crappy situation all around, Hotch," she countered with a shrug. "It sure isn't fair to you or Jack or Hailey either."

_When the war has took its part  
When the world has dealt it's cards  
If the hand is hard  
Together we'll_ _mend your heart_

"No, I guess it isn't," he sighed and turned back to stare out the window. For what was probably the first time, he allowed himself to admit the reality that rather than being the guilty party he, too, was a victim. "I just wish I could offer you more than an 'I'm sorry'."

"I know you do," she told him softly and moved back to sit on the couch. "But I know – well, no, I don't really _know_ but I can imagine what you're going through right now. It's not easy and it's going to take time for you to be back on your feet emotionally."

"Yes, it is," he nodded as he turned to look at her.

"But you're not alone, Hotch," she said softly, leaning forward. "You have Jack and I'm sure Hailey's family will be more than happy to help you with him."

"Yes," he nodded again. "Jess, Hailey's sister has already said she'd look after him while I'm working."

"That's good," she smiled. "And you have me, us . . . the team. We're here to help you, we want to help you. We might not be able to make things better but we can make them a little easier; we can help you keep things together until they get better. You just have to let me, let us help you." She paused as she stood up and walk back towards him again. "You're one of the strongest men I know, Hotch. I know you can get through this and you might get through it alone but you don't have to. I'm here; lean on me and we'll both get through it."

"I . . ." he trailed off and shook his head. "You're amazing. And I really don't deserve you."

"Oh, come on, Hotch," she blushed and tried to waved that comment off.

"No, I'm serious," he insisted. "I really don't. After everything that happened . . . I really don't understand why you even let me in tonight. 'I'm sorry' is so over used and so . . . weak a sentiment and yet it's all I can say. That and that I really wish things were different. But hopefully things will get better and they will be different and then . . ."

"Yes and then," she repeated when he trailed off with a warm smile.

"I know that's not much but . . ."

"That's more than enough for right now, Hotch," she disagreed.

"Really?" he tilted his head and frowned at her. "But you wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell you two weeks ago."

"That was different," she explained. "Then it was an apology and an excuse but now it's more of a promise . . . isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," he agreed.

"Then it is more than enough," she repeated. "I'm not asking for more than you can give, Hotch. In fact, I'm not asking for anything right now. I just want to help you."

_You can run into my Arms __That's okay don't be alarmed There's no distance in between our love  
Gonna let the rain pour  
I'll be all you need and more _

"God, you really are amazing," he said with a soft smile. "But . . . I'm a mess, Emily. I'm a huge emotional mess and I don't know . . . I don't know how to do this – I don't know how to be a single father. Not to mention how to be a full time father and a full time profiler, because I didn't take Strauss' generous offer of early retirement. I probably should have but I didn't so now I have . . ."

"Hotch," she tried to interrupt but a dam seemed to have broken and he couldn't stop talking. He was almost babbling and that was something Hotch had never done. She could see he might finally be starting to lose it. It was probably overdue and she was glad she'd been there when it happened.

"How am I going to do it, Emily? How am I going to manage to be there for my son when I'm so consumed with work? How can I make sure he grows up to be a good man if I'm never around? And how can I do the job properly when I'm worry about Jack? I just . . ."

"Stop, Aaron, stop," she said softly as she reached out and hugged him. "It's going to be okay. It'll be okay."

"How? How can you know that?" he asked as he buried his face on her hair.

"I just do," she answered as she rubbed his hand up and down his back and threaded the fingers of her other hand into his hair. "Let it out," she added when she felt him start to tremble as he tried to hold it in. "Let it out, Aaron. Just let go. You'll feel better; you know you will."

"Em," Hotch choked out as his arms tightened around her waist. He had cried when he'd held Hailey after she'd died but he hadn't let himself cry since then. He'd needed to be strong for his little boy and had held it all in; it was what he was used to doing. But now, with Emily in his arms, with her arms around him, he felt safe enough and comforted enough to let go. And as he did, he knew that there would light at the end of the dark, dark tunnel he was in. He might not see it yet but he knew it would be there. Just as the dawn always came, even after the darkest of storms, he knew he would one day wake up without the crushing pain on his chest. Knowing Emily would be there, waiting, when he did, would make the journey there a little easier.


End file.
